


Your Eyes are Memories

by tempisfugit



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-31
Updated: 2012-08-31
Packaged: 2017-11-13 06:36:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/500562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tempisfugit/pseuds/tempisfugit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two lovers, caught up in memories of the past and unspoken dreams.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your Eyes are Memories

The first time, her eyes are sweet and soft, and he knows that she is thinking of another, of an honorable northern knight with two, strong hands, of songs and tourneys and heroes. She shivers beneath him, and it is as if she has disappeared: gone is the strong queen, the dutiful daughter, the innocent maiden. She is brilliant light and terrible fire, pleasure and pain, and he is drawn like a moth to flame.

As his breath returns, he wants to tell her that he does not love her, that he will never love her, that she is giving him something that he does not want and cannot return. She is his ruin, a reminder of the honor that was never his and never shall be, of his failures, his misplaced love.

And yet she is his salvation.

\---

The first time, his eyes are raw and distant, and she knows that he is thinking of another, of a perfect mirror with emerald eyes and hair of woven gold. He trembles above her, unsteady on his golden hand, and it is as if he is no more than an innocent, frightened boy – gone is the fearsome knight, slayers of kings and kin. He is hunted and hunter, destruction and destroyer, and she finds she cannot resist him.

As her breath returns, she wants to tell him that her heart is his, that she gives it to him willingly, expecting nothing in return, that she will not, could not break it. He is her anchor, the tie that binds her to her flesh, her heart, her people, herself.

And yet, he is her freedom.

\---

The embers hiss softly in the stone fireplace as the snowflakes dart through the window. They lay next to each other atop the furs, racing hearts slowing in unison, but never touching, never speaking. He will rise in a moment, wrapping himself in a robe as she rolls over, turning her face away from his.

She wishes that she might reach for him and pull him back to bed. He wishes that he might draw her close in a warm embrace. That they might share the secrets of their days, whisper hidden dreams, confess nameless fears, profess their love. But it is ever the same: her eyes are soft and sweet, and his are raw and distant, even after hundreds of nights and days spent together.

And so he rises. And she turns. And two intimate strangers part ways in the lonely night.


End file.
